


As Daylight Breaks In Sunlight Wash (Seeping Through the Curtains)

by ohmygoshwhatascream



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: F/M, Fluff, also theyre married because i said so, because theres always a little bit of angst, but mostly soft happy feelings, flowerly language bullshit, literally the fluffiest thing i will ever write, probably the most pretentious thing ive written in a while, slight angst, theyre just in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygoshwhatascream/pseuds/ohmygoshwhatascream
Summary: Shulk awakens to the light, the warmth of the knowledge that he could never feel safer than this.
Relationships: Melia Ancient | Melia Antiqua/Shulk
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	As Daylight Breaks In Sunlight Wash (Seeping Through the Curtains)

**Author's Note:**

> this came to me at 2am and i had to write it down so uhhh here u all go.

He wakes up to the filter of sunlight peeking through half-closed curtains. Like a cat, still cosy and warm, he shifts against the soft sheets, lazily arcs his back against the silken duvet. His toes curl pleasantly as he curls himself into a new position, his legs sliding against the coolness of untouched fabric. 

Part of him longs to bury his face into his pillow once more, to breathe in deep and even; let the comforting scent of fresh linen and the faintest scent of floral perfume lull him back into a dreamless sleep. 

He stretches again, enjoys the careful dip of the mattress below him, the almost imperceptible heat that the flicker of sunlight brings. And then, before he can sink into bed once more, he hears a slight sniff, a deep exhale, a gentle puff of warm air against his cheek. It blows against the bedraggled strands of his hair, still tangled from sleep, and tickles ever so delicately against the outer shell of his ear. His nose twitches, his tongue feeling slightly heavy in his mouth, the usual accompaniments to a body unsure on whether it is asleep or awake.

With a sigh, he allows his eyes to flutter open. Momentarily, he is blinded by the dappling sunlight, the one that had been staining the innards of his eyelids the most dainty orange. 

With a few seconds wasted adjusting himself, with his fists digging against the dip of his eye sockets, his eyes blinking owlishly at his pillowcase, he clumsily rolls to his side. 

Another sniff, another breath that is not his own. This time, the warm air brushes against the tip of his nose. It smells faintly of that cloying sort of feeling, the heaviness of morning breath that Shulk thinks should probably be unpleasant. It doesn't really bother him though, he doesn't think it ever will. Instead, it feels familiar. Domestic in a way that he had not realised he yearned for. 

Melia still sleeps peacefully. Her eyelashes flickering like the breath of a butterfly's wings, the flittering of a nightingale's feathers. There is a curve to the dark line of her eyelashes, one that crinkles at the very edges, as though she is smiling. Shulk wonders if it is because of her dreams; a rare night where she is not plagued by terrors in the dark, the tendrils of intrusive thoughts that arise when she is at her most vulnerable. He wonders if she is dreaming of more pleasant things; of the late-night ether-glow of Satorl Marsh. The dancing fireflies on waters' edge, the ones that Ma'crish had lovingly released into the half-buried rubble of Colony 6. He wonders if she dreams of pearly white sands, of a beach long and endless, a boundless horizon of crystalline blue.

Or perhaps she is dreaming of nothing. Perhaps she was just as giddy as Shulk over this whole thing. Perhaps she too had fallen to sleep with a smile on her face, and perhaps it had simply lingered; her waking happiness transcending to the remaining clutches of sleep.

Her wings twitch, twice in quick succession. Her lips move, a noncommital sort of hum falling out of her in a deep exhale. Her wings twitch once more. 

Ever so carefully, Shulk traces the edge of them, feels the silkiness of feathers beneath the tips of his fingers. 

He had done this same gesture the night before, when the sky had been painted in twilight orange that had melded into starlit navy. She had looked up at him then, her eyes almost lilac in the low light. She had smiled, eyes darkening to a violet-blue. 

He had taken her hand in his, listened out for the quiet _clinking_ sound as she wrapped her fingers around his. The matching bands, worn proudly on their fingers, seemed to glitter brighter at their touch; as if they were pleased by this arrangement. It could have just been a trick of the eye, or maybe the foolish notions of a soaring heart, but Shulk was certain that - when the two of them were together - the silver on their fingers glowed like the patterns of constellations woven into the heavens far above. 

He had kissed her last night, barely a chaste brush of the lips, and he had laughed breathlessly as Melia's wings fluttered in response. The very tips of them had twitched upwards, each and every individual feather ruffling as Shulk had pulled away. 

Her cheeks had been stained pink, his own had no doubt been burning red. 

"I'm not quite sure _Emperor_ suits me," he had said, almost on a whim, but such words had been plaguing his mind for quite a while now. Whether it was between the pomp and ceremony, the hours he had poured into revising all of High Entian culture to ensure that this day would be nothing short of perfect, he is not quite certain. He curses his tone, for while he tries to appear casual, almost joking in his comment, he is not quite able to keep the self-conscious lilt of his voice hidden. 

Melia had cocked her head at that, a glint in her eye, her teeth flashing beneath her lips. With a poised finger resting just below her chin, she had studied him for a moment. 

"No," her response had been, her eyes kind and warm. "I am not sure it does." She had shifted herself then, her hands gripping at his forearms as he pushed herself forward, their noses only a breath's width away. 

"However, I think Shulk Antiqua suits you most splendidly." 

Shulk had spluttered at that and she had laughed. Gone, was the tightness of her gaze, the formality she had always carried on her shoulders, that had made her stiff and tight and unapproachable. 

The airs that she had once used to protect herself, the gait and tone that she had built up like armour, used to shield herself from the vulnerability of trust, had fallen away. She is a long way away from that fearful girl in the forest, the one who had desperately hidden her heritage under swathes of fabric and the protection of a mask. 

She has changed a lot. The girl in the forest is still there, still lingers underneath it all, the solid foundations of the person that she has become. Like the golden-lit streets of Colony 6, (the very same streets that they had laughed and cheered in as Reyn had flung a clumsily tied bouquet into a flustered Sharla's arms) Melia has forged her way through the rubble and destruction of war; come out of the endless tunnel and stumbled into the light of sunrise. 

Shulk wonders if she looks at him and sees the same thing. Two people, two of many, who's lives had uprooted; shifted from their tethered roots and fallen into a darkness that had seemed inescapable. 

But on such a night as the one just passed, such issues had seemed like nothing more than a speck of dust upon the mantlepiece. Even the darkest of shadows could not hope to remain under the brightest of lights and they had laughed, smiled until their cheeks ached and their eyes grew sore. They had sat up under the threads of moonlight and spoken until their tongues had grown heavy and their bodies had begun to slip into the dregs of fatigue.

Shulk looks at Melia now, in this morning glaze, his hands still tracing the curve of her wings, tickling ever so gently at the ruffled feathers. 

The sun rises higher, the curtains slipping until the light falls over her face; an amber glow that flushes her skin like watercolour. 

It is not long until her own eyes are flittering open, the shadows of her eyelashes dark against her cheeks. 

"Good morning," Shulk whispers. 

She looks up at him, tilts her head against the pillow, her silver hair iridescent against the white. 

"Good morning," she whispers back, and she smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> cheers to the xenoblade fanfic server for the shulk antiqua thing bc i kinda just took that idea and ran with it lmao


End file.
